


This Flight Tonight

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Mile High Club, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have another hour and a half before the plane touches down in Virginia. Across the table, Aaron Hotchner is still poring over the files, tracing his pen down neat lines of handwriting, frowning a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Flight Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2010's cm_exchange over at livejournal, for daisydacia, who requested "Hotch and Prentiss join the mile high club."
> 
> The fic probably takes place in Season Four, post-Haley, and pre-Foyet, because it's a good opportunity for minimal angst and maximum smut.
> 
> I own nothing, I just play here.

There's only so much time you can spend reviewing notes from an interview with a psychopath. Emily sits up, stretching in her seat and glancing down at her watch. They have another hour and a half before the plane touches down in Virginia.

Across the table, Aaron Hotchner is still poring over the files, tracing his pen down neat lines of handwriting, frowning a little.

She taps her fingers against the table, clears her throat. He doesn't look up. Typical. But it's been a long two days, and frankly, she's tired of sitting.

"Hotch," she says, and he nods.

"Prentiss?" he asks, still not looking up from his papers.

Emily tries again. "Aaron."

He looks up then, his frown sharpening as he glances around the cabin reflexively. "Prentiss," he repeats, with an edge in his voice.

"Prentiss?" she asks, pouting a little, because she's not above it.

Another quick glance, even though he knows they're alone. "Emily," he amends in an undertone. "We're working."

"I think we're done working," she says. "Sir."

Aaron puts down his pen and sits up, looking her in the eyes. "We're on a Bureau flight. And like it or not, the plane isn't flying itself."

"Which means the pilot won't be coming out any time soon," Emily points out. "Come on. What are you so afraid of?"

"Disciplinary actions up to and including transfer, suspension or dismissal for fraternization with a subordinate," Aaron replies dryly.

"And you're worried that's going to happen if you call me by my first name on an empty plane?" Emily asks, smiling a little in spite of herself. She understands the value of discretion – better than most of the team, she's willing to wager – but really, this is taking it to the extreme.

"It's hardly the time or the place," Aaron says, but his mouth is softening, looking at her, and Emily knows to seize the moment while it lasts. She stretches again, throwing her head back and tucking her hair behind her ears, knowing that Aaron is watching everything.

"Why not?" she asks, looking up at the Unit Chief through her eyelashes. "Are you afraid someone's watching?"

"It's possible, yes," he says, but he's not taking his eyes off her.

"Then come on," she says, lowering her voice. Not because she's afraid anyone can overhear them, but because there's something… _naughty_ about it that gives her a rush. "Let's give them something to watch."

"Emily," Aaron warns, a look of horror crossing his face as she rises to her feet and shrugs out of her suit jacket, draping it over the seat.

"What?" she asks, fiddling with the top button on her blouse, a smile curving her mouth upward mischievously. "Afraid someone will see?"

Aaron presses his lips together, shaking his head in dismay and mute disapproval as Emily's fingers slip the button through the buttonhole, then move down to the next one. "Come on," she says, toying with it. "You know you want to."

"Want to – Emily," Aaron half-hisses, like he's still afraid someone will hear him. "Sit down and get your shirt back on – "

Emily purses her lips, shakes her head, every motion a calculated effort to drive him crazy. It appears to be working, she notices, with no small satisfaction. "I don't think so," she says. "Why don't you make me?" And with that she's stepping out of her shoes and toward the couch, unfastening buttons as she goes.

"Wait – Emily, wait," Aaron orders, but she just smiles over her shoulder at him, stripping the lavender blouse from her arms and letting it slide to the floor. Normally she would have to fold it, but not now. Not when she's in midair in a cream-colored bra and her skirt, meeting Aaron Hotchner's eyes and beckoning him over.

"Come on," she says again. "You want to come cover me up?"

Aaron casts a desperate look at the cockpit before rising so hastily he knocks his knee against the table.

"This is completely inappropriate," he reminds her under his breath, his body shielding her torso from view.

"You know you like it," she says, arching her body toward him. He can't keep his eyes away from her nipples, just visible beneath the ecru lace.

"I – Emily," he tries, but she shakes her head.

"No one's looking," she promises. "No one's coming. Come on, haven't you always wanted to join the mile high club?"

"No," he denies, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"What, already a member?" she teases, just to watch the blush spread.

"I don't know what's come over you," Aaron says, more flustered than she can recall ever seeing him on the job.

"Just lucky, I guess," Emily says. She puts her hands on her forearms, drawing his eyes back down. "It's getting a little cold without my shirt on though."

"I – for God's sake," Aaron mutters. "Emily – "

"No one's going to see," she says. "Just for a few minutes. A quickie. I promise. Don't you want to warm me up?" She can see the indecision flit across his face.

"Tell you what," she murmurs, low enough that he has to lean in to her. She wraps one bare arm around his shoulder. "You won't even have to take your clothes off. Just unzip your pants and we'll go for it right here."

Aaron shakes his head, but she pulls him forward, and he sinks obediently onto the couch beside her.

"Perfect," Emily says. "Now, you want me, don't you?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he nods anyway, biting his lip, cheeks suffused with color. And god, if she had known this would be the way to make him utterly speechless, she might have tried it months ago.

"Good." A minute later she's climbing onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck enthusiastically, and he can't exactly resist that. She leans in to kiss him, and he returns it, his hands rising to her waist as she half melts into him. Their eyes meet. He's smiling just a little.

She runs a hand along his cheek, feeling the warmth of it. "Well, hello there," she says.

"Hello, yourself," he answers, and this time he's leaning forward to kiss her, his hands running up and down her back. The kiss is deep, forceful, and Emily is almost reluctant when she finally pulls away, but she has something else in mind.

She stands up for a moment, reaching behind and under her skirt to tug her thong down to her knees. Steps out of it, tossing it aside to land on her shirt. The knee-length black skirt remains in place, and she knows Aaron can't help but watch as she runs her hand over the material. Wonders whether she should take it off too, or just let him push it up around her hips.

"So how do you want me?" she asks, smoothing a hand through her hair. "Like that, just sitting on your lap? Bent over the couch?"

Aaron gives a strangled cough. His face is still faintly pink.

"On the couch," she says, nodding. "I'll just get on all fours. It'll be quick. I promise."

Emily still isn't sure he's completely convinced, but he nods his understanding and moves out of the way, giving her room to bend over on the couch, dropping to her hands and knees. The leather sticks to her palms and forearms. Her heart races.

So maybe there is something a little inappropriate about having sex with her boss in a Bureau airplane.

Aaron runs a hand over her skirt, experimentally, and the touch is exactly what Emily has been waiting for. She takes a sharp breath, squirms just a little. A moment later the hand is carefully tugging her skirt up, leaving her exposed. She parts her legs a little wider. The air is cool on her skin. She's already wet.

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing," Aaron says, but he can't even manage to sound disapproving. She tenses a little as she hears his zipper sliding down.

"Making the plane ride more interesting," she says lightly. His hand rests ghostlike on her left cheek. "More fun than paperwork, don't you think?"

"Every time," he answers softly, and a moment later he's pressing against her entrance, then sliding in, gripping her hips until she can feel the length of him inside her. She shudders involuntarily as his right hand stays anchored in place while the left one slips down and around her hips, finding exactly the right place to apply pressure.

"Oh, God," she breathes, closing her eyes and just giving into the sensation as Aaron starts to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

"Is this what you wanted, Emily?" he asks, voice tight as he pulls in and out, his thumb circling her clit as she moves with him. "Right here on the plane, where anyone could see?"

Aaron isn't usually one for dirty talk, and by all accounts, this is fairly tame, but Emily throws herself into it. "Yes," she answers him, aware that she sounds needy and on the edge of losing control. She doesn't care. "Yes, yes, this," she repeats. She's flushed and squirming, bucking into Aaron's hand and his cock, the sensations nearly overwhelming her.

"You like people seeing you like this?" Aaron asks. "Is that it? Or do you just like the idea of them knowing you belong to me?"

"Both," she says, even as she's never admitted it before. And they've never talked about it like that, not in so many words, but something about the idea of belonging to him –

Her hips jerk with the force of her climax and she whimpers, trying to keep from crying out loud. Aaron rides her through it, relaxing his hand on her throbbing clit, fingers tracing her inner thigh as he keeps pulling in and out at a pace that barely gives her time to catch her breath.

"Aaron," she says, the name she never says in public, and then she feels him coming inside her, slowing down, clenching his fingers around her a little too tightly as he orgasms.

A moment later he's pulling out, reaching hastily for the napkins lying on a nearby seat. It's a moment before Emily can quite bring herself to move. She knows she has a stupidly dreamy smile lurking in the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Aaron's back is turned, as he pulls his zipper back up and neatly deposits a napkin in the trash receptacle. She half expects him to go for the bathroom next to wash his hands, but he turns instead, smiles faintly.

"You liked that?" he asks. "Having sex on the plane?" And she nods, giving a small, incredulous laugh.

"Yeah," she says. "I did."

He nods. "I did too." And the next minute he does start walking to the bathroom, because he's just that predictable and fastidious and straight-laced, and as she watches him, Emily's heart clenches just a little.

Because the shivers she gets from watching him aren't just about the fact that she's still standing here without her blouse. The tingling isn't because she's still a little starry-eyed from adrenaline and orgasm.

No, the more she watches him, the more Emily notices that she's falling head over heels for Aaron Hotchner. And the more she starts to think that he's noticing, too.


End file.
